


The Devil and George Roger

by Algie_On_The_Wing



Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: Deal with a Devil, Gen, that sort of thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 19:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11237928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Algie_On_The_Wing/pseuds/Algie_On_The_Wing
Summary: Sick of the strife around him, Roger would do anything for world peace.  He discovers that his desire can come true...for a price.





	1. Part 1.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few years back, and found it while going through my files. Enjoy!

A clear sky, a cool breeze, and nothing but the sound of the cars driving by below. All was perfect during this early morning.

At least it seemed like it, as Roger sat on the rooftop of his home. Normally he would not be up before 10, but he could not sleep, and decided to take advantage of the peace and quiet. Dressed in a polo shirt and boxer shorts, he carried a small transistor radio in his hand, hoping a bit of music would perk him up. Besides the cup of coffee he had before, of course.

Sitting on the garden bench, he fiddled with the radio dial, hoping at least one station was playing Lennon or Dylan. After a few minutes of searching, Roger turned the radio off and sighed. News. Nothing but news, and not good news at that. Corrupt world leaders, environmental issues, murder...Roger hated it. He stared off into the distance. He tried to make as much a difference in the world as he could, but in the end, he knew he was just one person.

"I know I'm not the only one who dreams of peace," he said to himself, slouching. "I just wish there was more I could do to make it come true, and soon." He sat sunning himself, thinking. From the back of his mind, an odd thought popped up. "My soul? For world peace? Pffft, no," he shook his head, chuckling softly. "I mean, if Hell and the devil were real, then...no, no." He dismissed the thought before closing his eyes.

"I could arrange it."

Roger's eyes sprang open. He sat up, looking around. There was no one else in the area, so where did that voice come from? 

"If you so desired, I can make it happen."

Roger blinked, looking down at the transistor radio. The voice was coming from it, but how? "If I may ask, who are you?" Roger's voice shook a little.

"Just a moment," the voice replied in a gentle tone. In a flash, a figure appeared before Roger. Standing almost as tall as him, and dressed in a red and black tuxedo, was a man not much older than Roger. "Greetings, dear boy," the man said jauntily, "I go by many names, but many just call me the Devil." He reached out and shook the confused musician's hand. "Charmed, I'm sure!"

Roger tilted his head quizzically. "You're the Devil? Really? I was expecting more, from what I've heard people say."

The Devil's expression changed from cheerful to disgruntled. "For your information, this is my civilian appearance! I can't go running about with my horns and tail in public now, can I?" He dusted himself off and straightened his tie. "Now then, onto business matters. If I remember correctly, you would do anything to make your dream of world peace come true. Am I right?"

Roger's mouth hung open slightly. "W-well, if I could I would," he stammered, caught off-guard by the Devil's directness. 

The Devil smiled, making Roger a bit uneasy. “What if I told you that your dream can come into fruition? What if I told you that your dream of peace can not only come true, but will stay true for all eternity? I can make that happen, dear boy, I truly can. And it will only cost you one small thing!"

Roger swallowed. "My soul?"

"Bingo," the Devil grinned. "Of course, due to the urgency and complexity of your desire, in order for world peace to come into effect, I will have to take you with me immediately!"

"What? Immediately??" Roger backed away slowly. "But my family! At least let me say goodbye!"

"Relax, dear boy," the Devil said calmly, "you haven't even signed anything yet! Actually, you know what? Since this desire is an unconventional one from what I'm used to, I will give you one full day on Earth to say your goodbyes. Then you will come with me."

Beads of sweat appeared on Roger's forehead. "From this time until tomorrow?"

"Precisely."

Roger thought about this. On one hand, there will be no more wars, pollution, strife, none of that. On the other hand, he would be spending eternity in Hell. Heaving a heavy sigh, Roger nodded. "I'll do it. I'll give myself up for world peace."

"Excellent," the Devil laughed, snapping his fingers. A long piece of parchment appeared in a puff of smoke, containing the details of the deal. "Alright," he said as he checked his watch, "it's 8:50 now. Tomorrow at this time, I'll come to take you. From that point on, world peace will go into effect. As for your family, friends, and everyone else who knew you, they won't even question why you're gone. Too wrapped up in peace, y'know?"

Roger looked over the agreement. "Both parties must consent...deal must not hinder...blah blah blah," he muttered to himself.

"We clear? If so, sign here at the bottom please," the Devil stated, revealing a small red needle. "You'll need to prick your fi-"

"Yes, I know," Roger interrupted, "the whole sign-your-name-in-blood thing! I know about that!"

"Then do it, dear boy," the Devil grinned. "The deal can't happen until your blood is on the contract! Make your decision, chap! You can still back out!"

Roger stared at the contract, then the needle. Swallowing hard, he pricked his finger with a wince. He looked to see a bit of blood oozing out. Shaking, he signed the contract with a fingerprint, sealing the deal.

"Wonderful!" The Devil exclaimed. "So it's settled! You go off and spend one more day on Earth, and at this time tomorrow, I'll come to get you!" Roger's face was pale; his mind struggled to process what he had done. "Don't look so glum, lad! World peace is going to happen because of you! People won't know it, of course, but hey! It's a good thing! Ciao!" And with that, the Devil vanished as quickly as he appeared.

Roger stood in a cold sweat, his face still pale. He shook his head, hoping that this was just a nightmare. The blood on his finger proved otherwise. He wanted to scream, panic, cry, but could not. All he could do now was spend one more day on Earth, and wait.

Which is what he did. He calmly headed back into his house, his nerves shot. He called various friends and family members, not telling them the truth or the details, but just to hear them one last time, and tell them how much they meant to him. He even sent David an e-mail. That night was one of the worst for him. He tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He could have sworn he heard the Devil cackling in triumph.

Roger had only been asleep for an hour when the alarm clock rang out. Out of force of habit, he immediately smacked it, turning it off. He was about to fall back asleep until he saw the bright red numbers. 

8:35

"Shit," Roger thought as he got up. Grabbing a black shirt, he headed up to the rooftop just as he did the day before. He sat upon the bench, waiting. "Maybe he won't come," he thought, a feeling of dread sitting in the pit of his stomach. He looked at his wrist, only to curse himself for forgetting his watch. "Maybe he'll forget! Yeah! Or maybe I really did dream this whole thing, and I worried over noth-"

A sudden blast of dark smoke interrupted Roger, causing him to cough violently. Regaining composure, he looked up to see an enormous figure standing before him. 9 feet tall, gray skin, two sets of horns, the hooves of a goat, and a long, thick, barbed tail. "Do you like my actual form, dear boy?" The beast said in a booming voice. "8:50, on the dot!" Roger cowered in fear, telling himself to wake up. He felt a clawed hand pick him up tightly. "Time to give the Devil his due, George," he growled.

The Devil and Roger then vanished without a trace.


	2. Part 2.

Brimstone. Walls upon walls of brimstone as far as the eye could see. 

The air was thick and humid, with odd, red light coming from an unidentifiable source. The ground and walls were warm to the touch, and every few seconds a scream would pierce the air.

"Welcome to Hell, George Roger!" The Devil exclaimed happily. "This way to the front desk, quickly now!" Despite the warm temperature, Roger shivered. He kept telling himself that this was a dream, and that he would wake up any second.

"Ah, so this is George Roger Waters!" A voice called out, snapping Roger out of his thoughts. A short, green-skinned winged demon looked him over. The creature sat at a large computer desk, not unlike one would find in the lobby of a business office. 

"This is the guy," the Devil affirmed, patting Roger on the shoulder. The musician was not sure what to make of all of this.

"Just a moment," the demon said, flipping through a large file full of papers. Reading some of them, the creature grimaced. "You know, boss, we can't really give this guy as much of a punishment as you would like."

"We can't?" The Devil blinked.

"Nope. See, if this were the 80's, we could go to town on him big time! He'd be getting roasted, drawn, quartered, even eaten!"

Roger gulped loudly at that, feeling a bit lightheaded. The Devil folded his arms, annoyed. "And we can't do any of that because...?"

"Well, boss, thanks to little irritating things like redemption and love, he got better. That's pretty much it. He just got better."

The Devil snarled as Roger heaved a sigh of relief. "So I guess that means I can go now," Roger said, about to walk away.

"NOT SO FAST," the Devil roared in Roger's face. Roger froze with fear as he watched the Devil quickly regain composure. "I mean, *ahem*, you're still going to get punished, oh yes. It's just not as much as I was hoping." He then gestured to a corridor west of the desk. "Have our little friend get shown to his room. We'll figure out the torture procedure later."

"No problem, boss," the creature replied as two larger, scaly demons suddenly appeared. Fitting Roger with shackles and chains on his wrists and neck, they escorted him down the long, stony corridor. There were doors on each side, each containing a damned prisoner. 

"You're an 'unusual' case," one demon told Roger. "World peace? Really? Most people wish for money, or fame, or a larger penis." 

"I think I'm all set for those wishes," Roger answered without thinking.

"Cocky bastard," the other demon whispered. They stopped at a locked metal door. "This is your new, eternal home," the demon said, unlocking it. "You'll be receiving a schedule soon! enjoy!"

Roger stepped into the small room, only to be startled by the sound of the door slamming behind him. The room was stone and metal, with only a bed for furniture. He plopped down to the bed, and immediately regretted doing so; it was solid stone. He sat on the edge in silence, thinking back on the past day. The emotions soon bubbled up inside, and it hit him. He started to weep, curling up into a fetal position, wondering if it was worth it. 

.....

Roger sat in the cafeteria, still coming to terms with the fact that Hell even had one. Still wearing the black shirt and boxer shorts he arrived in, his arms, legs, and face appeared sunburned. It was his first day of torture, and it was spent being roasted upon a spit. However, due to the circumstances of him being there, the fire was small. The demons in charge of the spit were quite annoyed. Thankfully, the food was decent. Incredibly hot and spicy, just the way Roger liked it. This infuriated the chefs, who were known for giving the other residents indigestion. Not Roger, though. 

He looked around him, noticing other members of the damned struggling to eat their food, while others watched the large televisions hung up on the wall. The screens showed news stations from around the world, which caught Roger's interest. To his surprise, the news reports were positive. One screen showed world leaders making peace treaties, while another screen mentioned a newly implemented bill involving solar energy. One screen showed a story about a zoo bear that could read and write. Nothing negative was happening in the world! "My wish worked," Roger whispered to himself, feeling pleased that it came true. The demons behind the food counters watched the screens in disgust before getting up to change the channels. They hoped at least one station was showing Jerry Springer reruns.

.....

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE AREN'T GETTING ANY MORE SINNERS?" The Devil screamed, causing the demon at the front desk to hide behind his computer.

"I told you, boss," the demon said meekly, "there's no one on the list! Not for today, tomorrow, or next week! There's no more sin in the world! Everyone and everything is good!"

The Devil fumed, pacing back and forth. He thought long and hard about this. Hell received new sinners daily, and for everything to come to a screeching halt would give the place little reason to exist from that point on. He thought and thought and thought, until finally... "THAT BASTARD."

A full week of torture left Roger quite battered and bruised. He sat on the bed in his room, sucking on the wounds on his fingers. His clothes were torn and disheveled, and scrapes adorned his legs and arms. He lifted up his shirt, inspecting the wounds on his belly from when demons poked it with pitchforks. He shuddered to think of what kind of torture he would have received if this was the 80's. Holding his head in his hands, he reminded himself that this was in fact worth it. He was about to collapse on the bed when his ears perked up. A loud stomping could be heard outside down the corridor, and it was getting louder. Roger cowered on the bed as the stomping stopped right outside his door. He held his breath, waiting to see what would happen.

*CLANG*

The door was slammed down with a mighty sound right off of its hinges. Roger, in a fit of fright, tried to hide behind the bed, only for a clawed hand to reach in and grab him by the ankles. He soon found himself upside-down, face to face with the Devil.

"Do you know why I'm here?" The Devil asked as calmly as he could, despite snorting hot smoke out of his nostrils. "Do you know why I'm speaking to you right now?" Roger could only shake his head no; for the first time in a long time, he was completely speechless. "I'm here," the Devil continued, "because your FUCKING DEMAND HAS RUINED HELL!"

"What?"

"Yes! Your wish for world peace has made people good!"

"Well, that's a good thing," Roger said meekly.

"NOT FOR HERE! No sinners means I'm stuck with what I already have! I need more people! Do you understand? People come to me because they aren't satisfied, so I give them what they want in exchange for a lifetime of damnation! I myself will never be satisfied, because I need MORE sinners! Because of this peace shit, there's no more sin in the world, and that harms Hell!" In a puff of smoke, the contract Roger signed reappeared. "Remember Section 4? The deal must not hinder Hell or the Devil! AND YOURS HAS!"

Roger stared at the Devil, folding his arms. "Well, why didn't you deny my wish if you knew that?"

The Devil blinked. He had been so wrapped up in making a deal with a rock star (the first one in a long, long time) that he completely forgot about his own contractual statements. "Well...you know, it's hard being me! I have so many sinners to keep track of," he exclaimed, getting quite flustered.

A smug grin stretched across Roger's face. "Looks like you just can't stand the fact that I'm much cleverer than you are!"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. "THAT DOES IT," the Devil screamed. "You see this," he pointed to the contract, "do you see this? Because guess what?" In a sudden burst of flame, the contract was destroyed. "Now you don't! The contract is null and void! I'm sending you back to Earth! I don't even like Pink Floyd, anyway! Dark Side of my ass!!!"

.....

Roger found himself back on the rooftop, in the same exact spot he was when the Devil came to get him. He looked himself over; his clothes were no longer in tatters as they were in Hell, and his body was completely healed. Sighing deeply, he headed back into his home, wanting to see if things really did change. Upon entering the living room, he turned on the television. A full week had indeed passed, and while events really did change to peaceful while he was in Hell, they were coming undone. Peace treaties fell through, the solar energy bill was shot down, and the bear that could read and write took over the zoo by force. He groaned inwardly, knowing that his wish was just too good to stick.

"Terrible. After everything was going so well this week,” he grumbled. The bassist felt hopeless as he reached for remote, shutting the television off. “Hmm...I could give up,” he thought, “but I won’t. There are others out there who are still going. Many others!” With a renewed sense of vigor, he got up. “I’ll gladly continue fighting the good fight with them! And I won’t even need to sell my soul!” 

…..

Meanwhile, the Devil sat in his throne room, slumped in his royal chair. His weary expression was a cause for concern for the lower demons. “Be honest,” he sighed, “am I more cleverer than some punk old geezer?” The other demons nodded enthusiastically, praising and reassuring him. Despite their admiration, the Devil’s ego had been dealt a large blow. “Fucking musicians...tricking me and shit...I hate rock and roll...I like polka music you guys…”


End file.
